Dress as a Homunculi Day
by La Salle De Bain
Summary: [Oneshot] It's Dress as a Homunculi Day in the military. And guess who Roy wants to be?


**Dress as a Homunculi Day**

What was UP with the military anyway? They were so…_carefree_ sometimes. No wonder people who followed them were called dogs. And as though it was a cry for help, they held stupid events that made absolutely no sense.

The most disturbing, by far, was Dress as a Homunculi Day.

So everyone did their thing. They snipped and snapped in the tune of their awkward cosplay-fetishes. A little fluff and a little poof there and viola!

That faithful day, everyone was prancing around in their outfits in Central HQ. Such was going on in Roy Mustang's office. His subordinates were bein' idiots, while Riza, Ed, and Al stood miserably in the background.

Havoc danced merrily in his Pride costume. "I. Look. So. BADASS!"

"As badass as you are idiotic," Feury sighed. He felt strange in his body-hugging Gluttony costume.

"Whatever," Riza muttered, raising an eyebrow. Her pale locks were draped over her shoulders, in an attempt to look more like Sloth (whom she was dressed as). "Where in the world is the Colonel?"

"Who CARES?" Breda boomed, flexing in his Greed attire. "This is too entertaining; the Colonel'll probably RUIN all of it."

"Have you heard from him, Nii-san?" Al squeaked to Ed. Since he was a suit of armor, the ouroboros was painted sloppily on his steel chest plate in unnecessary support.

"Of course I haven't!" Edward boomed. Having confronted each and every one of the Homunculi and not finding their outfits and/or THEM amusing, he didn't have the heart to dress up as one of them. "If you haven't noticed, Mustang and I aren't exactly on the same page. And I don't see why it matters anyway."

"We have important matters to discuss!" Riza butted in. "It's absolutely preposterous his subordinates are more conscientious than he is."

At that moment, the door swung open. Everyone recognized the shadowed figure on the other side as Roy's.

"Colonel…!" Farman gasped. "Where have you—"

His question was cut off by possibly the queerest thing anyone-- ANYONE could have laid eyes on that day, that year, that century…

Roy was dressed up as Envy.

Everyone stared. They weren't even staring; they were dying a little on the inside with each passing second. Their eyes trailed to the headband, down to his newly green-outlined hair, down to the spandex top, down to his bare belly, and down to the skirt—ahem, I mean_ skort_.

"Sorry I took so long," Roy said, brushing past them to his desk as though they had just greeted him. "It was a pain putting the dye in my hair. But at least you know how dedicated I am."

"R-right," they answered.

Roy turned around, facing them. "What's wrong with you guys? It's not normal seeing you all act so quiet. Did Breda fart again?"

"Uh, no…" Feury said, blinking.

"Then what's your problem?"

"What the hell are you _wearing_?" Havoc spat.

"Cute, isn't it?" Roy curtsied. "I've always been quite fond of Envy's sense of style, and took the opportunity to dress as him for granted."

"It's pretty…unusual, Colonel," Hawkeye uttered, twitching. "It almost seems impossible you walked out the door like that."

"Oh, I did, alright," Roy answered. "And with pride. So are we going to have our meeting or what?"

"You're a distraction," Ed coughed.

"That's a stupid excuse. And no, I am most certainly not."

"I didn't know you had abs," Armstrong sniffled, shirtless and pink sparkles going everywhere. "I've had such a strong impact on you!"

Roy covered up his stomach with his arms self-consciously. "Will you quit it? You're making me uncomfortable!"

"What material did you use for the top?" Breda asked frantically. "It looks great! It sways with each and every one of your curves!"

"_Curves?_ I don't have any damn curves!"

"Ooh, and Colonel!" Farman squeaked. "I absolutely adore the skirt-thing! It's so divine, and a great touch!"

Roy twitched. "You obviously have never seen Envy before."

"Whoever the hell he is, he really works the female-clothing!"

"I've gotta admit, Mustang," Ed told him, smirking. "I can't say you didn't do a horrible job on that costume."

"What the hell are you blabbering about?"

"Oh, you know…"

So in came the freakish compliments, and out came Roy's misery. And then he died from blood loss.

The End.


End file.
